


Needs

by slodwick



Category: Smallville
Genre: Gen, Grief
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2002-12-10
Updated: 2002-12-10
Packaged: 2017-10-21 08:19:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 426
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/223045
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/slodwick/pseuds/slodwick





	Needs

He misses her in a hundred different ways every day.

Reaching, first thing in the morning, when the sun peeks through the blinds to wake him, his head still foggy with sleep, hand grasping at cold, empty sheets. In his dreams, he can pretend. Hand resting on the pillow he never uses, staring at the wedding ring he'll have to take off someday, he misses her.

Standing in the bathroom, where so many mornings began and so many nights ended next to her reflection. Twin sinks, one filled with toothpaste residue, one with dust. Running a finger lightly over the tube of lipstick in the medicine cabinet, the one he can't bring himself to throw away, he misses her.

Pulling a jacket from the back of the closet, and his hand brushes silk. A blouse, the only one he kept, and leaning in, the scent is overpowering, strong there as it ever was. Like she just walked up behind him, the way she always had, and at any moment her arms would wrap around his waist, and he could just breathe in that smell, breathe in her. Standing in a gloomy bedroom, swaying, eyes closed, and he misses her.

Sitting at his desk, staring at her photo, trying to memorize her face, and praying to God that no one ever finds out how quickly he's forgetting. Shadows on her face, shadows in her eyes, and he took that picture. Twilight had fallen so quickly, and had stayed. He misses her.

Working, trying with every ounce of him to ignore the pain, and little things intrude. Her name, and questions from another old acquaintance that doesn't know, hadn't heard. Living the story again and again, and this wound will never heal. She used to be the one who restored him, guided him, and now, floundering, he misses her.

Leaning against the car, the front door looming, what should be a welcome sight now dreaded. It's getting cold outside as dusk approaches, but colder in there, where his sun set long ago. He knows there should be more to life than this, barely living. But waiting inside that house is their child, too much like her, more real than any ghost could be, and he's not sure he can face that again tonight, even if he misses her.

Climbing the steps, finally, hands shaking, smile he doesn't mean plastered firmly in place, he wonders again how he finds the strength. But, deep down, he knows, that choice has already been made.

He misses her, but Chloe needs him.


End file.
